An Open and Frank Exchange of Views
by Sottanaprima
Summary: A vignette.  Thanks to Wild for her friendship and all the encouragement she's freely given.


An Open and Frank Exchange of Views

His twenty-four hour leave more than expended, Actor stepped down from the train and paused on the platform while the porter collected his overnight bag from the first class compartment and placed it at his feet. A florin exchanged hands: not too much, but enough to ensure prompt attention the next time he used the station. Actor was aware that, while appearances counted for a lot, cupidity counted for more.

Picking up his bag, he made a spur-of-the-moment decision and turned towards the village instead of the Estate: he needed to reinforce his defences before returning to that madhouse, and a light lunch at the tea room appealed.

Mrs Spencer welcomed him warmly, scolding him for the infrequency of his visits while seating him at his favourite table, outside in the back garden, next to the wall but with an open view over the fields towards the farms in the near distance and the hills beyond. At just after midday in late August the wall created a suntrap, and Actor sat back and closed his eyes, allowing the radiance to warm his skin, reawakening recent memories of warmth and satiation which owed nothing at all to the sun at noon.

Mrs Spencer had ceased to ask what he would like to eat: she simply brought him the best of what she had to offer. Today that was a ham salad: the ham was from a local farmer and strictly illegal, while all the vegetables had come from either her own garden or her allotment. She took pride in making a fresh dressing for the man who had taught her that art, and his smile was sufficient reward. Feeding a man who so clearly appreciated good food left her with a feeling of satisfaction that lasted many days. Slipping an extra slice of granary bread onto the plate and adding a larger than ration knob of butter next to it, she served the simple feast to her favourite customer, and was rewarded by a charming and sweet smile that warmed her soul.

Knowing that he was already late, Actor decided to prolong the lunch by enjoying a cigarette with his second cup of tea. He contemplated the coming clash with the Warden and wondered if he could persuade the Army man to the logic of the lotus eater. Sadly he recognised that the West Point brainwash had been thorough, but he decided to try anyway.

He took the path through the fields up to the Estate, enjoying the country scents of flowers, trees and wild herbs, and cattle and sheep; noting that the blackberries would be ripe by next week, and trying to identify the birds he disturbed on his way.

All too soon he reached the gates of the Estate. The guard on the gate informed him that Lt Garrison wanted to see him straight away. Actor thanked the man politely as he reflected that the order was predictable and superfluous.

"You're late."

Irresistibly reminded of being hauled up in front of his father to be rebuked for some misdemeanour, Actor's initial amusement was crushed into anger as he remembered that the man in front of him was nearly ten years his junior in age and probably twice as young in experience. Six months ago Actor would have allowed that the Warden had the advantage of him in military strategy and tactics, but now he considered himself to be at least as capable as the Warden in that area, but without the West Point blinkers.

Blanking his face, Actor said nothing. Instead, he took a pace backwards, rested an elbow on the filing cabinet and fished his pipe out of his pocket. "Do you mind?" he asked politely.

The Warden clenched his teeth to stop himself from venting his anger vocally. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, making himself remember the number of occasions when the man in front of him had pulled the chestnuts out of the fire, always at great personal risk but with a realistic calculation of that risk that bespoke bravery to the point of heroism. On a mission Actor was everything he could ask or even hope for – so why was the man such a damn pain in the backside at home?

Unconsciously the Warden groped for his packet of cigarettes and extracted one: this gave Actor his cue, and the tall Italian lit Garrison's cigarette before using the same match to light his pipe. Knowing that he had broken the ice, Actor sat down in the chair next to the desk, stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankle while he drew on his pipe to ensure the tobacco remained alight.

In spite of himself, Garrison felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Actor was not the only one who had learnt new things over the past six months, and the Warden recognised that he was being conned. And that Actor knew that the Warden knew that he was being conned. Leaning back in his chair to mirror Actor's relaxed attitude, Garrison blew smoke up at the ceiling and allowed his smile to show.

"Okay. Give."

Actor lifted his chin and blew a perfect smoke ring.

A look of puzzlement mingled with bewilderment was Garrison's immediate response. Actor underlined his silent reply by blowing another perfect smoke ring, watching it with absorption as it drifted upwards, expanding and gently swirling until it dissipated.

Then he turned Garrison, a gentle smile on his lips. "Thank you, Warden, for granting me twenty-four hours leave. I spent the evening with a very charming young lady –"

"Spare me the details. Why were you late back?"

"- with a very charming young lady of great intelligence and culture. We discussed structuralism over breakfast. My train was delayed by a special convoy of what looked to be aircraft wings – twenty six wagons, by the way, heading south - so I was already late when I arrived at the station. As there was no-one to meet me, I decided to have lunch in the village."

Garrison considered this. "You were already late, so it would make no difference if you were later." He paused – no response. "And if we had a mission, I'd've sent someone to the station to pick you up." He paused again, but still Actor did not respond. "Damn it, Actor, I still expect you to come back on time!"

"Warden, we have done – what, twelve, thirteen missions so far. We are classed as expendable. The odds are stacked against us seeing the end of the war." Actor paused for dramatic effect. "I am told that, as you die, a vision of your life passes before your eyes. When that happens to me, I want to be sure that I will enjoy the show." He stood up abruptly. "Will that be all? Then – good afternoon."

"Actor!"

Half way through the door, Actor turned, and the two looked at each other: Garrison was stunned to see the conman's face change from serious to bland, and he knew that he'd just witnessed the man slipping back into the persona he presented to the world at large. Which meant that the conman had just granted him an epiphany.

Off balance, Garrison struggled.

"Glad to hear you had a good time." A short pause. "What's structuralism?"


End file.
